Dear Mr. Sondheim
Originally posted April 20, 2003:
Dear Mr. Sondheim,
I know you would probably scoff at this because you tend to scoff at such things, like when you said Oscar always believed there really was 'a bright golden haze on the meadow,' but you never did. But even though I had the chance to tell you in person and I chickened out, I just have to say here and get it out: you change me. Your music changes me. It stirs me and challenges me and makes me want to live to be a part of something as brilliant and powerful and true as the things you write. Your lyrics change me on a daily basis. I have clung to the truth behind them ever since I first discovered you back in junior high school. I have been your fan for so long that I tend to take for granted how much I love you, and start to wonder if maybe the fannishness has tarnished the value of it a little, or if maybe I've lost my vibe. But then I see a performance and I'm filled with so much renewal of passion and conviction and a wish to just grab everybody around me and scream 'don't you see how wonderful, how brilliant, this is?'
Nobody else in the whole world makes me feel that way, and has made me feel that way as many times, as you do. If I died tonight I would die happy because I've seen a performance of Sweeney Todd that put as much love into the production as I feel for you. If you never wrote another line of music, I would die happy because your musicals have given me so much, a lifetime of growth and change and philosophy and mystery to reflect on and ponder and learn from. I honestly love you. I once took issue with someone because I called you my mentor and they said you couldn't be my mentor because you weren't someone I knew personally. And I still bristle at that, because you *are* my mentor. Your music is my mentor. I wouldn't have any other. And I hope that if you knew me you would take that as a compliment.
Thank you. You made my weekend the brightest tonight. The next time I see you, maybe I'll be able to communicate how much I respect and admire you instead of just blubbering like an idiot. I have for years been trying to write you a letter, trying to find the words to really say all the ways you have touched me, and how directly influential your works have been on my life. But every time I try, I can't seem to find a way to articulate it. There is too much there, too much history and too much emotion, and too much incoherence. But thank you, wherever you are. I hope some day, in some lifetime, you'll know how much your life's work has meant to me.